


don't fight fair

by clytemnestras



Series: lipstick and lycra [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: femslash100, F/F, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: Natasha has her hair pinned up, clothes black and slinky, silence swelling between the inside of her head and the false laughter from her painted mouth





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saiditallbefore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/gifts).



> for femslash100 drabble tag 7  
> prompt - legacy
> 
>  
> 
> (I now really want to write an epic about these two finding comfort in each other, unravelling post-missions, secret sharing, bed sharing, etc etc etc... oh no)

Natasha has her hair pinned up, clothes black and slinky, silence swelling between the inside of her head and the false laughter from her painted mouth and she feels unreal - no, too real, a dark slice of _before_ that blooms low in her belly, perpetual on these kinds of missions.

She hands her champagne flute to a waiter and excuses herself from the conversation; she has everything she needs. Sharon grabs her upper arm, trailing down to the small of her back, looking elemental. “So soon, Miss Rushman?”

Her dress says _airess,_ her tone belies her blood

Natasha nods, eyes wide and demure. “Had my fill of _hor dourves_ for the night.” She smiles, kisses cheeks, lets her eyes slip closed upon the inhalation of classic Dior.

It is three and a half minutes before Sharon follows her into the street.

“You got everything?” She says it like an order, or some expression of concern - and Natasha has never been able to read Sharon, not entirely. When composure is sewn to your nerves before adolescence, it rarely falters. _They_ rarely falter.

“More than.” Natasha pulls her hair free, feels it tumble to her shoulders. “Hold my hand,” she hisses, dark eyes scattering around the street and watching for discrepancies.

Sharon twines her left arm with Natasha’s, and they walk together in carefully placed missteps. “I’m tired of these nights,” she confesses, tipping their heads close like schoolgirls.

“You love them,” Natasha says, meaning, _they’re all you know._


End file.
